WHY
With series of thought, in our hearts Boiling and hurting Like the settled pot Emitting the steam of the angry water All these years we spent, as saints The decadence we despised Truth we conversed Yet we toil Like foe of what we are Our prayers seem To be too lame to reach The master, while our eye Fixed to the selfish cloud Hiding heaven away And our voices unknowingly shout why? We hope for what other hoped We wait for what the Corinthians Waited to see But the sign is to weak To be noticed A
